Nephilim's Fall: Chapter Seven

Stella sees Sebastian at the party.

Chapter 7

I sit at my kitchen table, my knees bouncing agitatedly under my clasped hands, a once forgotten nervous habit. For the first time in my life, I am about to go out in public wearing an item of clothing with the express purpose of looking good. Ever since I bought the dress, more and more doubts have been budding in my mind, little bubbles of uncertainty. Now that it is actually the night of the party, those bubbles are bursting one after the other, pushing themselves to the surface until they are all but impossible to ignore.

Standing dismally in front of my mirror, all I'm able to see is a skinny, barely seventeen year old who looks about eight trying, and failing, to dress up like all the big kids. My cheeks look bright pink under the blush mom had almost forcibly applied, as if I can't have handled that naturally. The dress is one that Rachel would wear, or Amanda, but not me. My reflection looks almost alien, unfamiliar under the tight fitting fabric. My mother's reassurances do little to calm my nerves, and as I sit waiting for Conner, I am nothing but grateful that he is running late.

Fifteen minutes after Conner is supposed to pick me up, a sharp rap at the door makes me leap hastily out of my seat. My mother, who had been standing at the kitchen bench, moves to answer the door, rolling her eyes as she passes me. I grab a kitchen towel, nervously wiping my clammy hands, loath to touch my dress. I can hear Conner chatting away casually with mom in the hallway, her laugh echoing through to the kitchen. For some reason the sound turns my stomach to knots, and I move jerkily to the kitchen sink to pour myself a glass of water.

I drink slowly, stalling for time more than out of actual thirst. I can't figure out why I’m so nervous already; it is only Conner. I take a deep breath, still amazed by this entirely unfamiliar embarrassment, before moving back towards the table to reclaim my seat. My knees feel strangely wobbly.

I make it halfway there before mom re-enters the kitchen, with Conner following closely on her heel. His eyes widen when they fall on me, and I feel my cheeks flushing, no doubt just emphasizing their already unnatural blush. I must look ridiculous to him. I wait for him to start laughing, but he just keeps on staring at me.

“She scrubs up alright, doesn't she?" Mom says, grinning widely.

"Yeah," Conner murmurs, his eyes scrutinizing my face. "You look great, Stella."

I fidget under their collective gaze, fighting the temptation to run upstairs and grab my jeans and tee lying in wait on my bed, just in case.

"You're sure? It's not too much?"

They shake their heads together, and I sigh.

"Well, I guess we'd better get going," I groan, wondering if it is too late to back out. I move to Conner, and look at him properly for the first time since he'd walked in. He is wearing a pair of dark grey jeans and a white button down top, complete with a slick black vest, all looking brand new. He, too, is more dressed up than I've ever seen him.

"You went shopping," I accuse as we walk out my front door.

He raises his eyebrows at me, looking pointedly down at my outfit. "I'm not the only one."

I laugh, the blush returning to my cheeks. I realize then why it seems so horribly embarrassing to be so dressed up in front of Conner. It feels awfully like I am pretending to be someone I'm not. A disturbing image of Rachel flashes into my mind.

"Who're you dolled up for, then?" he asks casually, holding the passenger door of his car open for me in an unusual act of chivalry.

I climb into the seat, glad for the surrounding darkness. My cheeks must be crimson.

"Just myself," I laugh, hoping the half-truth isn't apparent. "What about you?" I counter as he gets into the driver's seat. "Who're you dolled up for?"

He stares ahead, starting the car engine before he replies. "Yeah, just myself."

I watch him as we pull out of my driveway and into the dark street, and notice that the corners of his mouth are turned down slightly. I turn my attention ahead after that, and we spend the rest of the trip to Amanda's in silence.

We can hear the party before we can see it. I recognize the song blasting as one of the recent hits off the radio, and sigh. It is obvious that none of my favorite bands will be featured. Conner and I walk towards the house slowly, and I can feel my own apprehension mirrored by his. This is something that neither of us had any experience with.

We get to the already open door much sooner than I hoped, and I instinctively reach for Conner's hand as he pushes it forward. He squeezes mine reassuringly, and we walk into the house together. No one looks up as we walked in, and it is instantly obvious what holds their attention.

Every pair of eyes in the room are glued to a wine bottle that spins in the middle of a tight circle of about ten kids, all of whom I'd grown up with. I barely notice them, though; I am preoccupied, searching the room for a more recent addition to the teenage population of Riverwood high. I am a little disappointed, but mostly relieved, when I quickly realize that the room we are in contains no one I consider even remotely interesting.

"Hope the rest of the party isn't like this," Conner whispers in my ear, and I turn to see him eyeing the crowd in front of us with more than a little distaste.

I nod, sharing his feelings. We move through the room towards the kitchen, and no one seems to notice us as we pass. A muted cheer sounds from the group that is now behind us, and more than one person whistles. I glance back and see what has them excited: the bottle had stopped spinning. I turned back just in time, a girl from my grade is already leaning across the circle towards an excited looking boy I've never seen before. The knots in my stomach twists uneasily.

We’ve barely stepped into the kitchen when Amanda spots us. Or, more accurately, spots Conner. I groan when I notice her walking towards us; hers is one face I would have been more than happy not to see. Conner's poorly disguised horror at seeing her makes it slightly more bearable, though.

"Hi Conner!" She grins at him toothily, and he returns her smile with a considerably less enthusiastic one of his own.

"Hello, Amanda. The, uh, party looks like it's going well."

I snicker loudly, but she seems entirely oblivious, intent only on Conner. I must seem like an annoying pet to her.

"Oh, yeah! Doesn't it? Everyone's having a really super time, tons of people are here."

"Yeah," Conner murmurs, obviously searching for a suitable response. "That's good."

I tune out of the conversation, suddenly uninterested in Amanda's ditzy flirting with my best friend. I've found the face I'd been searching for.

Predictably surrounded by a giggling group of girls, a few that I recognize and several more that I don't, Sebastian is sitting at a picnic table in Amanda's backyard. Heading up the onslaught, Rachel Dawson sits to his left, leaning in to him as she whispers something in his ear. My blood churns as I watch his mouth turn up at the corners in response to whatever she is saying, a musical laugh that manages to project all the way into the kitchen bubbling past his lips. The girls around him fall quite at the sound, their eyes glued to his face.

Under any other circumstances I would laugh at them, at how ridiculous they are being. But I am just as star struck as they are.

"I'm going to get some fresh air," I murmur to Conner, barely noticing the indiscrete way he shakes his head or the unmasked horror in his eyes at being left alone with Amanda. I think I hear Amanda saying something about going somewhere alone with Conner, and in the back of my mind, I am glad. I know Conner won't approve.

I cross the small kitchen in a few steps, pushing the screen door open and stepping outside. I ground to a halt there, though, unsure of what to do next; knowing only that I have to get closer to Sebastian. I notice an table full of drinks, and move to fill up a plastic cup, all the while carefully avoiding looking at the table where he sits. The idea of getting caught staring is mortifying.

I barely notice what I am pouring into my cup; I am so focused on the boy sitting mere feet away from me. At this proximity, my head is full of him, full of questions.

I am worried suddenly, by the strength of these emotions, and for a boy I've never even spoken to. I've never in my life felt jealous of anyone before, least of all Rachel Dawson, but that has to be what is twisting my stomach into knots at the thought of her arm, pressed casually against him as they sit side by side. This boy, with his clear gray eyes and milk-white complexion, has somehow crawled under my skin in a way that no one else has ever managed to. And he hasn't even spoken to me, or so much as glanced at me since that first day at school. I am abruptly grateful that I haven't had a conversation with him; the strength of these feelings is already shocking; I can't imagine how it would feel if he actually spoke to me.

Anger courses through my veins suddenly; anger at myself for feeling this way, anger at this boy for making me feel this way, anger at Rachel, for having the courage to speak to him, to whisper things in his ear. I realize then that my cup is overflowing, sticky soft drink spilling onto my hand. I jerk the bottle upright, snapping out of my daze with a sudden resolve to walk back into the house and find Conner.

I jump at the feel of a hand on my shoulder, and turn too quickly, sloshing my too-full cup of soft drink onto my dress. I stare down at the quickly spreading patch of drink in horror, and notice that, mercifully, it is lemonade I'd been pouring. The sticky wetness soaks through to the bare skin of my stomach, and I stand frozen on the spot, fighting the fast settling sick feeling at the sight of my brand new dress soaked in lemonade, potentially ruined.

"You might want one of these."

I jump again at the instantly recognizable voice, reminding me why I'd turned around in the first place. I can't help but stare at Sebastian as he holds a box of tissue out to me, his eyes holding mine.

"Uh, thanks." I try to concentrate on the chilly lemonade soaking through my dress, in a desperate attempt to counter the heat that threatens to flush my face, but when the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile, I know it is useless.

"I know we met once before, but I'm Sebastian," he says, leaning in almost imperceptibly as I take a second tissue from the box.

"Oh, um, Stella," I splutter, the heat in my face spreading to my scalp and the back of my neck. I dabbed at the lemonade on my dress, keeping my hands busy so that I didn't have to say anything.

"Nice to meet you again, Stella."

I nod enthusiastically, trying to think of something witty to say. Something comprehensible would do. It is useless though, facing him, I can barely think straight. My heart hammers painfully at being so close to him, even having what can only be considered, a pathetically mundane conversation.

The silence between us stretches until I feel uncomfortable enough that I almost wish I'd spilt more of my drink. My dress is beginning to look almost normal again, and I know it won't be long before I'll have to look up at him.

"So, are you friends with Amanda, then?" he asks

Unbidden, a startled laugh bursts from my lips and I look up at him, reluctantly giving up on the idea of further salvaging my dress.

"Amanda? No, I wouldn't say we were friends, exactly."

He smiles, staring at me for several seconds before he speaks again. I let my gaze wander over his shoulder, intimidated by the way he looks at me, his eyes sharp as they study mine. I see Rachel Dawson, standing by the picnic table, surrounded by the group of previously giggling girls. The furious glares I receive make me grin, and I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at the lot of them.

"So, if you're not friends with Amanda, who are you here with?" he asks, pulling my attention away.

"Um, my friend Conner was invited. I guess I'm sort of, his plus one." I laugh nervously, the sound coming out half strangled. His eyes narrow slightly, and I remember, too late, that he and Conner don't like each other. I groan inwardly.

"Oh," he murmurs, his smile changing slightly, his eyebrows drawing together over his eyes. "Well, that's nice of him to let you tag along."

"Excuse me?" I can feel my face flushing again, but this time it is in anger, not shyness or embarrassment.

"I just think it's great to have a friend who'll invite you to other people's parties when you don't, you know, personally get an invite of your own. Like your very own fairy godmother." He laughs, and my blood roars, an unfamiliar urge towards violence suddenly nearly overcoming me.

How dare he? I grit my teeth, all my previous inclinations towards Sebastian evaporating, quickly being replaced by new, and much less flattering ones.

"It's not like that," I say, attempting to keep my voice level. I suspect I'm not doing a very good job, from the startled look I receive from a passing girl. Her stare quickly moves on to Sebastian, though, and for some reason that makes me even angrier. The wide grin that stretches across his face doesn't help matters, either. Still, even then I can't help but notice how lovely he looks when he smiles.

"So, what is it like?" he asks, his eyes locked on mine in a way that is more than a little unnerving, considering the tone of our conversation. "You're not friends with any of the other people here, are you?"

I hold his gaze, determined not to look away.

"So, why did you come?"

I flinch, dropping my eyes to the ground. I can feel the now familiar blush returning to my cheeks. I take a fast, deep breath. Compose myself. I shrug, attempting nonchalance as I look up again to meet his eyes. "Thought it might be fun. A change of scenery."

"Oh, fair enough." He returns my shrug with one of his own, and makes a mockery of my attempt at nonchalance by affecting it much more convincingly. He smiles again before continuing.

I resist the urge to smile back at him, reminding myself how pig-headed he was being only seconds ago. Turns out I don't have to remind myself for long.

"I thought you might be here for me." He says in his honey voice.

"What?" I know my mouth is hanging open, but I am reeling inside. Desperately, I search for something to say. My embarrassment is almost instantaneously overcome by rage.

How dare he?! How dare he suggest such a thing? Regardless of how true it may or may not be... how dare he?

"Well, I saw you looking at me from inside the kitchen, and then again when you came out here. It seemed like the logical reason."

"The logical reason?" I am mortified. Horrified. Enraged.

He just shrugs; forever smiling at me, like this is all some big joke to him. It probably is I realize.

"You're a pig." I tell him flatly

He laughs, and I hate the way the sound seems to reverberate inside my head. A couple of girls standing near us pause mid-conversation to stare, their expressions awestruck. They make me sick, reminding me painfully of myself only minutes before.

"Stella?"

I flinch, trying not to groan out loud. This is one conversation I've been hoping to avoid.

"Hey, Conner." I sigh

Sebastian's eyes narrow, his upper lip pulling back slightly so that his top row of teeth are bare. A moment later, his expression transforms, an almost convincing smile quickly spreading across his face. I can see the tension in his eyes, though, and the set of his eyebrows. I wonder again at the animosity between Sebastian and my best friend.

"I think it's time we left, don't you?"

I feel his hand close around my wrist, gripping it tighter than I would have thought necessary. I look away from Sebastian, with more reluctance than I like, and am shocked by what I see. Conner's expression is grim, his eyebrows hanging low over his eyes as he glares at Sebastian, never once looking at me. His jaw is set at right angles, and this expression is so unfamiliar on him, I might not have recognized him under other circumstances.

"Yes, okay," I murmur, my anger at Sebastian subdued by the shock of seeing Conner so furious.

Conner jerks me away from Sebastian, and I can't help but notice the way he positions himself between the two of us as we walk back towards the door.

"See you around, Cinderella," Sebastian calls, his voice strangely jovial. I shudder, the temptation to turn around and tell him exactly what I think of him rising in my chest. I resist though, and not because of Conner's almost painful grip on my arm, but because I am suddenly struck by the fact that I don't know what I think of him. I know that I should hate him, for the things he is saying about me, and about Conner, but I honestly can't place my emotions towards him. Walking back into the house, I decide that it is just because it has happened so fast, and uneasily shove the thought to the back of my mind.

Author's Note

Let me know what you think :)